Fertility Rites
by S J Smith
Summary: Ed really doesn't want to take part in the Eostre celebration.


**Title:** Fertility Rites

**Author:** S J Smith

**Rating:** Teen. Warnings for language, boys being boys, and misbehaving body parts.

**Summary:** Ed really doesn't want to participate in the Eostre celebration.

**Disclaimer:** If I had any part of this, I wouldn't wonder if I can pay my bills this month.

**Notes: **Despite what many want to think, Arakawa has said Amestris is not a Christian country. Therefore, I took a few ideas/traditions from various religions to come up with the idea of Eostre in Risembool.

* * *

Spring in Risembool was like nowhere the Elric brothers had ever seen. The grass seemed washed clean from the winter rains and snows, and shot up green and lush. The days began to lengthen, and birds started singing their territorial songs in the trees and hedgerows. Trees and bushes began putting forth buds, and tulips, daffodils and crocuses popped up from almost nowhere. Lambs appeared like the spring flowers, prancing along next to their more staid mothers. A field might have nothing but cows, and the next day, a wobbly-legged calf would be amongst them. As the equinox – Eostre - approached, everyone started blowing eggs, saving the intact shells for the festival. Even Pinako saved those eggs, washing them out carefully and setting them aside to dry.

"Who's going to use those?" Ed had to ask while helping make breakfast in the kitchen one morning. The smell of anise and sage perfumed the air, and made his mouth water as he browned the sausage in the skillet.

Pinako gave him a look over the rims of her glasses. "I figured you and Al would. You're not claimed yet, none of you."

A funny shiver ran through Ed's spine at that comment, but he hid it by rolling his eyes. "Yeah, so? It's a stupid custom. Throwing eggs full of rose water at girls? What the hell is that about, anyway?"

"Didn't we have this talk during May Day about the lingham post?"

Residual embarrassment threatened to flood Ed's face. "That was May! This is March!" he barked.

Pinako snickered, setting another eggshell aside. "Spring is one big celebration for fucking, Ed. Get over it."

Maybe it wasn't just residual embarrassment.

X X X

Al let out a happy sigh.

"What?" Ed glanced sidelong at him.

"All the pretty girls." He was practically drooling.

Across the town square, the girls stood, ranging in ages from toddler up to their early twenties. The hems of their dresses danced like daisy petals, all colors of pale – green and yellow and blue, some white, some pink. Ed tried not to look at Winry, wearing a light purple dress, her hair loose but crowned with a circlet of flowers, ribbons trailing down her back. He knew she'd picked that willow switch personally. He'd heard her making it whistle through the air the night before, and dreaded getting close enough to feel it smacking against him.

"They've got willow switches," Ed pointed out. "We've got eggs. _Eggs._ Full of stupid perfume - hey!"

"Sorry, Ed." Pitt grinned, belying the sentiment. He had an armful of eggs. "Are you gonna blast Winry?"

"I am," Al said, "or I'll try. I'm not sure my arm's up for this yet." He looked a lot better, but still thin, and his muscle mass wasn't where it was supposed to be for someone his height and age yet. Ed's protests that he shouldn't participate in this stupid custom went absolutely unheeded, aside from the comment that, "Well, then you'll have to go with me and make sure to pick me up if I fall down." Ed was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear the 'Mommy' tacked onto the end of that statement, or maybe he was. Whichever it'd been, he'd shot Al an obscene Xingese gesture Ling had taught him, but Al knew it, too, and, if they'd not been at the dinner table at the time, a fight might've broken out.

"This is a stupid custom, anyway."

"Oh, shut up, Ed. It's fun." Al rolled his eyes. "Besides, Winry'd hit you harder if you don't throw eggs at her."

Gritting his teeth, Ed managed to get out, "You know what the eggs and switches are supposed to represent, don't you?"

Pitt snorted. "Fecundity in the women and stiff poles," he made a gesture with a finger, like an erect penis, "in the men."

"Don't say that, you'll make Ed blush," Al sniggered.

"I hate you both," Ed grumbled, feeling his face heating up despite his best efforts. Someone pushed against his back and he glared more. This really was stupid. He wasn't interested in throwing fucking eggs at stupid girls and risking getting switched with willow branches. Those things stung like sons of bitches. Couldn't they just go directly to the eating and drinking, and be done with the whole Eostre celebration? But no, those old enough had to chase each other through the streets and survive getting smacked with tree branches or pelted with stinky eggs. But if this was a mockery of sex, should little kids be involved at all?

While Ed was thinking of lodging a protest, right here and now, Burgomeister Michlin and his wife stepped into the square, both dressed in their finery. She wore a single flower in her hair, rather than the crowns the girls wore. His moustache looked freshly waxed, to Ed's eyes. "Good morning," he shouted in his booming voice, reminding Ed of Armstrong. "We're so glad to see so many bright, eager faces here today! Is everyone ready to run?"

A resounding cheer of, "Yes!" went up.

"No," Ed started to say, and grunted in pain when Al's elbow found his ribs.

"This is supposed to be fun," Al reminded out of the corner of his mouth. "Have fun, Ed."

"Yeah, Ed, have fun," Pitt snickered on his other side.

This wasn't fun. This was sheer, utter torture. The only way it could possibly be worse would be if Mustang was here, to gloat and giggle. Ed glanced around suspiciously, not about to put it past Al to have called the bastard to invite him for the celebration. Or Ling. God, if _Ling_ was here, he'd – he'd grab all the eggs and hit every cute girl he could. And probably make sure Winry got soaked in perfume, so her dress went transparent and – Ed swallowed hard, trying to restrain his thoughts from what Winry's body might look like under that dress.

"Hey, Ed!"

He spotted the old hag, instead, and it looked like she had a camera. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck! She grinned, pointing the lens directly at him. Ed showed all his teeth but that didn't dissuade Pinako Rockbell from snapping his picture, not in the least.

Michlin and his wife were counting down to the beginning of the riot, and Ed braced himself. Around him, the young men pushed against each other, some of them shouting at the girls across the square. Some of the girls shouted back. Al pointed at Winry, deliberately tossing an egg and catching it once he had her attention. She shook her stick at him. Ed huffed, rolling his eyes as the Michlins shouted, "Go!"

Pitt shoved past him with a yell and Al laughed, nearly tripping over some little kid who'd run out in front of him before he caught his balance. Still, two eggs fell, crashing in an splatter of rose water, soaking Al's pants. A couple of really little boys flung eggs at each other. Ed sidestepped them, trying to figure out where to go to get out of this madness. He just knew he should've stayed home today.

Some of the girls charged the boys, yelling just as loud. Ed dodged best he could, but still got smacked with those fucking willow wands and splattered with perfume. Grunting, he waded out of the mob, trying to get someplace relatively safe.

Easier said than done. The adults cheered on their kids, or the neighbor kids, or just anyone, thronging the streets to keep the youngsters from ducking into alleyways. Pinako seemed to be right there every time Ed got close enough to possibly bull a path to his escape, grinning and raising the camera. A few little girls whapped him with their switches, but he'd gotten through it relatively unscathed. The same couldn't be said for Al. His hair stuck straight up, he had perfume stains on his untucked shirt, and he limped. Ed bet his little brother took some little girl's willow branch right to the balls. Idiot. They should've stayed home. Pitt chased after Nelly, throwing eggs at her as he ran. Two struck her, one on the back, the other colliding with her arm. The adults surged after them, cheering both of them on, giving Ed an out.

He took it, slipping between a couple of buildings with a grin.

"Ed!"

Wincing, Ed hunched his shoulders automatically at the sound of his name. Winry'd found him. He couldn't just slink off now, even if he wanted to. Turning around, he faced her as she came down the narrow passage. "If you hit me with that stupid branch, I swear, Winry."

"Oh, please. If I hit you with anything, it'd be a wrench." Even so, she twirled the stick between her fingers.

"I've got eggs." Oh, that was a fucking threat, right there.

Winry cocked an eyebrow. "Have you actually thrown any of them?"

Did dropping one on his own foot count? Probably not. "I just don't see the need to perpetuate some fu-_stupid_ fertility rite!"

Winry tapped her switch in her hand, reminding Ed of school, Mrs. Calvert, and her ruler. Except Winry was standing in an alleyway, and her dress clung to her from someone hitting her with eggs. And his dick was starting to misbehave. Stupid thing. "Are you sure?" she asked, and Ed wasn't sure how she'd done it, but she'd gotten closer. A lot closer. Close enough to hit him with that fucking willow stick. And she was _smiling._

"I'm positive!" Except for his dick. Damn it.

"You don't have to yell, Ed, I'm right here," Winry said crossly, and she was way closer than maybe she should've been unless she was working on his automail or maybe adjusting his shirt collar or giving his ponytail a tug or –

"Mmph!"

_kissing_ him –

And the stupid eggs smashed between them but Ed didn't care, because Winry'd pushed him up against the wall and he could feel how warm she was, even through their wet clothes, and she was – his brain was short-circuiting, worse than when she'd installed his automail in the past – but his hands wound up on her hips, and then around her waist, and he wasn't going to let her get farther away than she was _right now_, with her lips and her tongue and her teeth and – god, her boobs pressed right up against his chest.

That moan had been his, and Ed blushed when Winry pulled back just a hair so she could grin up at him. At least she was blushing too, a little bit. "So, are you sure you don't want to participate in some dumb fertility ritual?"

Maybe, just this once, Ed thought, he could make an exception.

* * *

~ end ~


End file.
